


Hide Away

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Insecure Stiles, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 05:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7087168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another pack is in town, and they’re looking for a magic-user. Stiles and Derek have to lay low while Scott tries to handle the situation diplomatically. Too bad things don’t really go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greyhoundsgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyhoundsgirl/gifts).



> Written for this prompt by greyhoundsgirl: I like the idea of Derek having to protect Stiles from a specific threat. Maybe Stiles is the pack emissary and Derek is the second. Another pack wants Stiles, wants his spark, and they essentially go into hiding while Scott tries to handle things diplomatically? And of course they fight and snark and "Why is there only one bed in this cabin, Derek?" Is that too specific? I really love emissary Stiles and protective Derek, working together for the pack, basically. 
> 
> This was really fun to write, and I hope it’s at least close to what you wanted!

“Are you sure this is really necessary?” Stiles asks, a slight whine in his voice.

“Yes,” Derek says shortly, making a right turn onto a densely wooded road. He’s trying to be patient, but this is the fourth time Stiles has asked. 

“You’re just saying that because Scott told you to,” Stiles says accusingly.

“It’s a good plan,” Derek says, unruffled. “He wants to keep you safe.”

“By hiding me in a forest three hours from home, with a werewolf that doesn’t even like me? Sounds super safe,” Stiles replies sarcastically, crossing his arms and staring moodily out the window. 

Derek opens his mouth to deny it, but decides to say nothing. Stiles wouldn’t believe him anyway.

They turn again, onto what is essentially a glorified trail, paved mainly in gravel and pine needles. It’s way overgrown, and Derek winces a little when branches drag along the side of the Camaro. He lets them coast along over the bumps and dips, only hitting the accelerator when they crest a small hill. It’s only a couple more winding turns before they finally arrive in a clearing, a small cabin in its center. 

“This is…nicer than I was expecting,” Stiles says, peering through the windshield as he unbuckles his seatbelt. 

The cabin is rustic and sturdy looking, with seasoned timber walls and a steeply sloping roof. There’s a trail of natural stepping stones leading to its inviting front porch, and the sides are lined with flowerbeds bursting with colorful blooms. It looks like something right off a postcard. 

“Wow,” Stiles says as he climbs out of the car. “It’s really beautiful.” Ever impulsive, he jogs up the steps and eagerly throws open the front door, darting inside. 

He’s not gone long.

“Why is there only one bed, Derek?” he asks, his tone accusatory. 

Derek sighs. “The cabin originally belonged to Peter. It was his…” He trails off, not sure how he wants to finish that sentence. 

“Love nest?” Stiles guesses.

“Something like that,” Derek says. “I try not to think about it, really.”

“Can’t blame you for that,” Stiles says, grimacing. “Yikes.”

Derek steps up onto the porch, giving Stiles a wide berth, and peeks in through the open door. He’s relieved to see that everything looks well-maintained and relatively clean. 

Stiles seems to follow his train of thought. “Wait a minute, I thought you said no one had been here for years. And Peter’s in no shape to be using it,” he says smirking. “But everything looks nice. There aren’t even any weeds in the flowerbeds.”

“No one from the family has been here,” Derek says. “We have a groundskeeper that comes out every month or so to keep things in repair.”

“Makes sense,” Stiles nods. “Peter wouldn’t have wanted to bring a lady friend here, only to find the place was full of spider webs, or something,” he shudders.

Derek smirks. “It would have definitely killed the mood,” he says, enjoying the sound of Stiles’ surprised laugh. “Come on, let’s get our stuff out of the car.”

“All right,” Stiles says amicably.

They haul in their bags of clothes and boxes of food, duping them in the living room-kitchen combination. Derek eyes their stock critically. “If we stay here more than a week, we’ll have to get more supplies,” he says. 

“A week?” Stiles says, aghast. “Do you really think we’ll be here that long?”

Derek shrugs. “Diplomacy takes time. And because Scott is both young and a fairly new Alpha, they’ll certainly be testing him. Sounds like their pack is pretty desperate for a magic user. I heard rumors of them wanting to kidnap you.”

“Hence the hiding out,” Stiles says. “I don’t know why they’d want me, though. I can hardly do anything,” he scoffs. “Tricks with mountain ash are pretty lame, as far as powers go.”

Derek raises his eyebrows. “It’s pretty important when it comes to werewolves. Besides, Deaton says you’ve been making good progress.”

“Because you guys love to talk about me, huh?” Stiles asks snidely. “I’m sure I’ll be a disappointment soon enough.” He stares Derek down. “And honestly, when did you get so positive? I can’t even have a good argument with you!” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air and stomping off to the back of the cabin. Derek hears the door open, then slam shut again. 

Well, that could have gone better.

 

*

 

Stiles comes back a little while later, while Derek is unpacking some of his things in the bedroom. “Did you know there’s a vegetable garden out back? And there’s a trail through the woods, too,” he says conversationally.

“Yeah,” Derek says. “Did you take a look? It goes out to the pond, it’s a nice walk.”

“I didn’t,” Stiles says, scuffing his toe against the floor. “I figured I’d better not wander off alone.”

It almost sounds like an apology, and Derek is willing to take what he can get. “We could go, if you wanted to,” he offers.

“Maybe later,” Stiles says, patting his stomach. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“I haven’t finished unpacking the kitchen,” Derek says, “but I’m sure we can find something.”

Stiles digs through three boxes before he finds something he deems worth eating. Derek tries not to roll his eyes too much.

“So,” Stiles says when they’re done, pushing his empty plate away and leaning back casually. 

Something in his tone has Derek on guard. Stiles looks re-energized and ready to fight, and their relationship has always been a little contentious. 

“I saw you putting your stuff in the bedroom. Does this mean I’m stuck on the couch?”

Derek’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “No, of course not. We can alternate, if you want. But honestly, the bed is plenty large. We could share,” he says cautiously.

“Absolutely not!” Stiles says vehemently, slamming his hand down on the table.

“Okay,” Derek says, trying not to feel insulted. 

“Look, I know Scott probably told you to be nice to me, okay? You can act like you like me, but I don’t need it!” Stiles hisses through his teeth, standing up. “Just stop pretending,” he says bitterly.

“I’m not pretending,” Derek blurts, taken aback. 

Stiles just shakes his head and walks away. 

 

*

 

He finds Stiles on the front porch later that evening. He’s curled up on the bench seat, looking tired and lonely. 

“Do you know any magic that could make the cabin safer?” he asks quietly.

“Hmm?” Stiles says, blinking and looking over at Derek in surprise. “Hold that thought.” He hurries inside, and Derek can hear him rustling through his bag. He’s back a moment later, holding up a small book. “Deaton sent me with this, said it might be useful.”

Derek watches him flip through it, already in the deep concentration of his research mode.

“Here,” he says, tapping a page. “This should make the cabin harder to get to.”

Derek leans over his shoulder to look. “Can you do it?”

He expects some snide remark, or maybe just some expressive eye rolling, but it doesn’t happen. “Yeah, it’s not too difficult. Just need some fresh herbs,” Stiles says, tapping the list. 

Derek nods. “Most of those should be in the garden, the rest we can probably find in the woods.”

“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow. It’s a daytime spell,” Stiles says, looking pointedly toward the sun setting between the trees.

“That’s fine,” Derek says. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. Come inside, there’s French bread pizza in the oven.” 

“What?” Stiles says, looking at Derek in surprise. “I don’t remember packing that.”

“You didn’t,” Derek says, smiling. “I did.” 

*

Out of some bizarre sense of honor, or maybe pride, Stiles insists on taking the first night on the couch. Derek tries to warn him off, but he refuses to budge. That couch was uncomfortable ten years ago, he can’t imagine it’s gotten any better with age. 

He guesses Stiles is going to find out. 

When he shuts the door to the bedroom, Stiles is still sitting in the low light of the living room, studying the spell book. Derek thinks he might try to stay up all night, but with as tired as he looked, it’s not going to happen. 

So it’s not exactly a surprise to find Stiles hanging halfway off the couch the next morning, his blanket fallen to the floor. The surprise is the petals. 

All beneath Stiles are colorful blossoms, so many that they nearly obscure the cushions, and gather up in drifts at each end of the couch. Derek scoops up a handful, sniffing. They’re real. 

He briefly imagines a green field somewhere, where every single plant is suddenly, absolutely bare of flowers. 

Stiles startles awake, then flushes when he sees what’s in Derek’s hand. “I was, uh, trying to make it softer,” he says, gesturing to his makeshift bed. “You know, like a cloud.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “Well, a lot of these are white,” he says, letting them flutter to the floor. 

“Yeah,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “You can see why the Zeta pack is so desperate for my skills.”

“They might be into flower arranging,” Derek smirks. He drops the smile when he sees Stiles’ face. He so rarely has confidence in his skills. “You have more value than you know,” he says before he can think too much about it, turning on his heel and making a tactical retreat to the kitchen. 

 

*

 

Stiles figures they’ll have breakfast, then go searching the woods for his spell ingredients. It’s a good plan. He likes the plan. 

Too bad things don’t go that way.

Derek’s just reaching for the carton of eggs when he freezes, expression hard. Stiles is tempted to ask what’s wrong, but he knows better by now. He really does. He has a pretty good guess what Derek’s hearing, anyway.

“Stay here,” Derek hisses, and then he’s out the door. 

“Shit,” Stiles whispers, staring after him. Then he hears Derek roar, and finds himself sprinting out to the porch before he even realizes he’s moved. 

Derek and the other werewolf are in full combat, teeth and claws bared, rolling in the dirt. Dammit, he wants to do _something_. He runs through every spell he knows, then all the ones he sort-of knows. He’s got nothing.

Except maybe—

He darts inside, grabbing a handful of petals and crushing them in his palm, whispering. Then he hurries back out, and waits for an opportune moment. It finally comes when the other werewolf shoves Derek’s arms up, creating space between them.

“Derek, look out!” Stiles shouts, hurling the wadded up ball of petals. It strikes the enemy werewolf’s shoulder and bursts into flames. 

It’s not much, but it distracts him enough for Derek wrestle his hands free. Then he slams forward, sinking his claws into the beta’s stomach. He howls in pain and writhes away, ripping free of Derek’s hands and lurching off into the woods.

Derek stares after him, blood dripping from his claws. 

“So much for them handling things diplomatically,” Stiles says wryly. 

“He might not have been acting under his Alpha’s orders,” Derek says. “He might have been a rogue pack member, looking for the glory of capturing you. But if the Alpha sends more wolves after you…” Derek smiles grimly. “We’ll drive them out, and send them with a message: the McCall pack is not to be trifled with.”

Stiles gives him a vicious grin. “You’re damn right.”

 

*

 

After Derek cleans himself up and they finally get breakfast, he suggests they still go looking for the herbs. 

“You sure there’s a point?” Stiles asks. “They clearly know where we’re hiding out. Why don’t we just surround the cabin with mountain ash?”

“Too dangerous,” Derek says. “I heard them talking about taking you. They have human pack members, they could break the line. If they incapacitate me, they could kidnap you and seal it back up. I’d be trapped, Stiles, with no way to get to you.”

“Scott could--”

“He’d be three hours away,” Derek says firmly. “We can’t risk it.”

“Okay, I get it. Back to the spell, that’s clearly our best option,” Stiles concedes.

“You said it would make it more difficult for them to get to the cabin, right? We could certainly use that,” Derek says reasonably.

Stiles nods. “True. But hopefully everything will be solved diplomatically, and none of this will be necessary.” It sounds absurdly naïve after it comes out of his mouth. 

“Sure, that would be the best outcome,” Derek says. “But I don’t trust the Zeta pack one bit. Come on, let’s get going,” he says, standing up.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “You think they’ll be back, don’t you? With reinforcements.”

Derek just nods. 

“You don’t want to mention that to Scott?”

“I will, but I’m pretty sure he already knows,” Derek says. “He’s been having talks with their Alpha, and he’s giving their pack a chance. He’s letting things play out, seeing if they’ll make the right decision,” he says, shrugging. “Besides, if they come for us here, it keeps the rest of the pack out of danger, and limits collateral damage.”

“You seem pretty confident that we’ll win,” Stiles says, eyebrows raised.

“I’m a born werewolf and you’re a Spark,” he says, giving Stiles a fierce grin. “How could we lose?”

 

*

 

Stiles is pretty sure the spell worked. He did everything properly, anyway, and there’s no real way to test it. Hopefully it’ll delay how soon the rival pack shows up. 

He’d had Derek help him tie bundles of herbs to the corner posts of the porch, and then had burnt a circle of them around the entire cabin. They should certainly be harder for the other werewolves to scent out, anyway, because now the entire clearing reeks like incense.

“Come on,” Derek says, opening the door. “Let’s eat some lunch and take a nap.”

“Take a nap?” Stiles repeats skeptically. “Really?”

“They’ll likely attack at night,” Derek says reasonably. “We should get all the rest we can.”

As much as he’d like to, Stiles can’t really argue with that. 

 

*

 

The couch is still mostly covered in flower bits, and Stiles doesn’t particularly fancy more time on it, anyway. When he walks into the bedroom, Derek is already stretched out on one side of the bed, looking comfortable and relaxed. 

Stiles pauses in the doorway. He finds himself imagining what it would be like to just climb in next to him, to curl up close and snuggle in with his head on Derek’s chest. He resists the thought, trying to squash it. 

Derek looks up, and pats the empty side of the bed in invitation when Stiles hesitates. 

He’s just tentatively taken a seat when Derek starts to talk.

“Look,” he says. “I wanted you to know that I recommended that Scott instate you as his emissary immediately.”

“What? But you—” Stiles protests.

“He’s still new at being an Alpha,” Derek continues, as if Stiles hasn’t said anything. “I’ve been teaching him, but he’s still learning. He wanted you to have time to study too, without the pressure of being emissary right now. He wants Deaton to be able to show you everything you need to know,” Derek says, looking utterly sincere. “But that position will be yours, Stiles. The entire pack agreed. You will be our emissary.”

“I didn’t--” Stiles shakes his head. “I thought it was because you didn’t think I was, you know, good enough. You’re the Second, but you were making a lot of the decisions that day. I figured you told Scott that I couldn’t do it,” he says quietly.

“I would never say something like that,” Derek says, looking shocked. “I thought you knew. Stiles, you’re incredibly important to the pack, you always have been.”

“Even before I could do magic?” Stiles jokes, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yes,” Derek says with absolute certainty. “Always.”

He’s quiet after that, giving Stiles time to think things over. He’s misjudged Derek, and he definitely needs to have a do-over of the whole emissary conversation with Scott. Obviously, he missed some important information the first time around. 

Eventually Derek gives him a nudge and tells him to lay down, and try to get some rest. It takes him a while to fall asleep, but that’s okay. He feels pretty good where he is.

 

*

 

They show up around dusk the next night. 

Derek and Stiles are ready and waiting for them, sitting on the front porch drinking coffee. The rival pack must feel pretty confident, because they’re not even trying to be quiet.

Either that, or his little spell is actually working.

Derek stands, claws already extended, his eyes a brilliant blue. Stiles gets up and braces himself in the doorway, ready to magically unleash the traps he set. 

“There’s four of them,” Derek says low, scenting the breeze. “No humans.”

“Good,” Stiles says, smirking. “I won’t have to go easy on them.”

“I’m certainly not planning to,” Derek says, leaping at the first werewolf to come through the trees.

They slam together with the force of Derek’s tackle, and waste no time before viciously tearing at each other. Their angry roars aren’t enough to distract him, though, when one of the others steps into his trap. 

He uses a flare of power to trigger it, and the old fishing net he buried in the ground rapidly transforms. Strands of webbing burst up by his feet, binding the beta’s arms and legs tightly, then starting to coat the rest of his body. He opens his mouth to call for help, but that gets covered up, too. The webs just keep spinning, until the werewolf has become a giant cocoon.

Stiles smirks, feeling just a little bit like spider-man. 

He looks over and sees another wolf has joined the fight with Derek. She has long black hair and a fierce smile, and she leaps right into action, landing on Derek’s back and bearing him down to the ground. 

Stiles is just glad she has shoes on. Toenail claws are super gross.

She drags Derek backwards through the dirt, restraining his arms and giving the other beta a chance to slice at his chest and stomach. Stiles flinches at Derek’s scream, and tries to send out a little magic to shield him. 

He’s not sure if it works. He hopes it does.

The last werewolf, who had been trying vainly to free his webbed brethren, finally gives up and decides to enter the fray. 

He doesn’t quite make it.

He’s almost there when his foot crunches down into Stiles’ homemade explosive. (Thanks, Lydia.) He has just enough time for a whoop of victory as he uses his power to increase the blast. It sends the werewolf flying, in a beautiful flaming arc, right back into the tree line. 

Two down, two to go.

The explosion has obviously worked in Derek’s favor, because he’s managed to wrench himself free from the two betas. As Stiles watches, Derek rears up and punches the nearest one so hard he passes the fuck out. It’s awesome.

That just leaves the woman, who’s circling warily, hands up and ready. The tussle it out, moving so fast Stiles struggles to see what’s happening. Eventually, she gets through Derek’s guard, and she digs her claws into his sides, pushing him back, trying to bring him down. Derek’s got a ridiculously high pain tolerance though, and he grits his teeth and twists sideways, ripping free.

Stiles winces in sympathy. 

Derek staggers, sinking to his knees, acting like he’s done for. He pulls a classic schoolyard maneuver, and actually throws dirt in her face when she comes in for the kill. The best part is that it _works_ , making her stumble back a pace, and giving Derek an opening. 

Which is good, because Derek is bleeding everywhere and Stiles is just about out of magical energy. Spells are surprisingly hard work. He’s still standing, but that’s only because he’s braced in the doorway. He can feel his knees trembling.

He misses a lot of the fight while he’s staring down at his toes, trying to will himself into motion, but he tunes back into it in time to see Derek finish her off, driving his elbow into her nose. The sound is kind of gag-worthy, but it means she’s down for the count. 

They’ve done it.

They’ve won. 

Derek lifts his head to the sky, letting loose a long, resonating howl. He pauses, then turns to Stiles with a sharp little grin. “Scott will be here soon,” he says. “With their Alpha.”

Stiles staggers from the doorway, and slumps down on the porch steps. “Awesome,” he says.

 

*

 

It _had_ been pretty awesome, seeing Scott drive out the other pack, backed by all the members of his own. His booming voice, and glowing red eyes, and speech about never returning had been pretty epic, he has to admit. And it’s good to know his pack will be safe. 

Still, he’s just glad it’s over. He’s so tired, he’s pretty sure he could sleep for a week. Probably in the same bed as Derek, because he’d turned down Scott’s offer of a ride back to Beacon Hills. That was three hours in a car that he just didn’t need right now.

Derek returns from his meeting with Scott at the tree line, and sits down on the porch steps next to Stiles. Together, they quietly watch their pack’s little caravan of vehicles drive out of the clearing. 

“Scott doesn’t need us back right away,” Derek says quietly. “We have some time to relax.”

“That’s good,” Stiles groans. “Because I don’t think I can get up.” He punctuates that by letting himself flop dramatically sideways on to Derek, his head dropping onto Derek’s shoulder. 

He expects Derek to laugh and push him away, or maybe shove him until he stands up. Instead, he just gives a quiet chuckle and curves his arm around Stiles’ waist, pulling him closer. “That’s okay,” he says kindly, lips brushing the top of Stiles’ head. “There’s plenty of time, you can rest.”

Stiles takes that to heart, letting his whole body relax as he happily drowses against Derek. He feels content, safe. He wants to stay like this forever.

But there’s something not quite right. But he’s so tired. He just can’t figure it out. Something…

He bolts upright when he finally realizes what’s wrong. Derek smells heavily of blood. “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, touching the torn fabric at the back of Derek’s shirt. It’s still damp.

“I healed,” Derek says. “A lot of that blood isn’t mine,” he smirks.

Stiles would like to sternly disagree, because he totally saw how many hits Derek took. But hey, they won, and Derek’s okay now. Besides, he’s still basking in the glory of sweet, sweet victory. There’s no need to ruin that.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up,” Derek says, standing and offering a hand to Stiles.

He lets out a gusty sigh, but he takes it. He doesn’t want to spend the night on the porch, after all.

Derek keeps ahold of him all the way through the cabin, not letting go until he deposits Stiles on the bed. “Change into your pajamas and go to sleep,” he says firmly. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be back in a few.”

Stiles nods, starts pulling off his clothes as Derek leaves. He snuggles into bed and, with a quiet sigh, drifts off to the sound of pattering water.

He dozes, letting his mind drift. He’s not sure if he’s dreaming, but he swears he feels the phantom brush of lips against his cheek, while warm fingers slide through his hair. It’s a nice feeling, and he lets it wash over him as he slips back to sleep. 

*

The next morning, as they finish their oatmeal, Derek suggests they walk the forest trail out to the pond. 

“I’m always game for an adventure,” Stiles says cheerfully, pulling on his shoes. His hair is still damp from the shower, and tufted up in places, because he keeps running his hands through it. It’s kind of adorable, really.

The path isn’t nearly as overgrown as Derek expected, the hard-packed dirt trail weaving between the trees and sloping up past a small hill. It’s a leisurely, easy hike, and Derek finds himself enjoying it more than he expected. When they round the final curve and come out of the thicket of trees, Stiles actually gasps.

“Are you sure this isn’t a lake?” Stiles asks excitedly, hurrying to the bank. “It’s huge.”

The water stretches off into the horizon, calm and blue, an almost perfect reflection of the sky. The shallows are edged with broad lily pads, each leaf with a bright blossom in the center. Green dragonflies buzz through the air, and silver flashes of fish are visible through the clear water. The trees stand at a distance from the edge, encircling the entire pond. It feels safe, hidden. 

It feels like the best kind of secret. 

“Wow,” Stiles says, dipping his fingers into the water. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

“It really is,” Derek says, grinning. “It’s one of the best parts of staying at the cabin. The trail circles the pond, we can walk the whole thing if you want to.”

Predictably, Stiles bounds right over. “Of course!” he says happily. “After all, it is a perfect day,” he says, glancing up at the nearly cloudless sky. 

They only make it a few steps before Stiles pauses, looking thoughtful. He glances out at the sparkling water, then speculatively back in the direction of the cabin. “You know, this whole setup is pretty romantic,” he says, nudging Derek with his elbow. “Ever wanted to bring someone special out here?”

“Yeah,” Derek says, glancing away nervously before meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I did. He’s here right now.”

Stiles is up in his space faster than he would have imagined possible. “Are you-” he says, eyes darting across Derek’s face, his hand curling around Derek’s forearm. “Are you being serious?”

Derek gives him a small smile. “I am. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Kind of,” Stiles says, laughing nervously. “I mean, I’m still coming to terms with the idea that you even like me as a person. I definitely never thought you’d be interested in me, you know, like that,” he finishes awkwardly.

Derek stares for a moment, because Stiles hasn’t moved away, and it feels good to have him so close. “You really thought I didn’t like you?” he finally says, a little bewildered. “Stiles, I gave you a key to the loft. I re-watched all the Star Wars movies with you. I even spent most of last weekend helping you fix your jeep. Why would you think I didn’t like you?” he asks, exasperated.

“I just thought you were trying to be nice to me. Because Scott’s the Alpha, and I’m his best friend,” Stiles sighs. “I thought it was for the good of the pack. Though I may have hoped that you were interested in me,” he mutters.

Derek smirks. “Looks like the great Stiles Stilinski was finally wrong about something,” he says playfully, settling his hand as Stiles’ waist.

“Yeah, and I’m actually kind of happy about it,” Stiles says, grinning. “I just assumed it was all one-sided, so I mostly tried to ignore it. Clearly, that was a mistake,” he laughs.

Derek slides his arm away, catches Stiles’ hand and squeezes. “This has obviously been a surprise, so if you need time to think about it,” Derek begins. 

“Here’s the thing,” Stiles says, leaning in closer. “I don’t really need time. This was unexpected, but definitely not unwanted.”

Derek feels a ridiculous smile spreading across his face, and he can’t resist using his grip on Stiles’ hand to pull him even closer. They’re nearly the same height, so all it takes is a little tilt of his head, then they’re kissing, soft lips against his opening up.

It’s perfect.

It feels so good, Stiles’ mouth against his, his body flush with Derek’s, that he doesn’t want to quit. He wants to kiss Stiles forever. He leaves another lingering kiss on Stiles’ lips before he manages to pull away. With the little bit of distance between them, he can see that Stiles looks gratifyingly flushed. 

“Come on,” Stiles says, and he sounds a little breathless. “Let’s finish our romantic walk,” he says teasingly, lacing their fingers together and pulling Derek forward. Then he freezes. “Oh my god, is this our first date?”

Derek just laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr ](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
